Chapter 177: Chapter 177

Jenkins did as he was told. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself back in the carriage. Thıs content belongs to novelFirｅ.net

"Excuse me, where are we now?"

After taking a moment to collect himself, he leaned his head out and asked the coachman.

"Oh, we've entered the city, sir,"

the coachman answered.

"The flow of time feels normal, my posture hasn't changed, and the seat is still warm. My physical body never left this spot."

As these thoughts raced through his mind, he stared at the vessel in his hands. After a moment of hesitation, he recalled the recent events and once again rubbed the lid with the pad of his finger.

"Welcome back, stranger. I hope you now understand that this place isn't dangerous. In fact, I couldn't harm you even if I wanted to, as you are only here as a projection. Do you have any other questions?"

Jenkins glanced around at the others seated at the round table before giving a slight bow to the upside-down figure of Mr. Constantine.

He put a deliberate emphasis on the word "illegal" as he watched the others for any reaction.

Their faces were hidden behind masks, revealing nothing.

"Very well, I'll join your gathering," he declared. "But I need one thing made perfectly clear: if I wish to withdraw, how would I go about it?"

He had already made up his mind. If this turned out to be a mutual-support group like the ones hosted by Mr. Hood or the Corpse Gentleman, he would consider attending again. But if it was a cult recruitment session, he would immediately have the coachman drive him to the Church instead of Pops Antique Shop.

He marveled at how a simple rub of the vessel's lid was all it took to activate it. He tested the process of entering and exiting several more times, and when he met no resistance, he finally began to relax.

"You need only discard the object in your hands,"

the upside-down Mr. Constantine answered. "I use these items to bring everyone together."

Jenkins nodded. He was telling the truth. His Eye of Reality detected no marks on his physical body, and it was impossible for a level-eight Enchanter—even one as powerful as Constantine—to tamper with his unique soul.

He found an empty seat at the round table and sat down. As he did, a peculiar sensation washed over him from the surface of the table.

"This is B-10-5-7701, the Interpreters' Table."

The man in the black robe sitting closest to the head of the table—the highest-level Enchanter present besides Constantine himself—explained, "The words spoken by anyone seated here are automatically translated. This ability, of course, does not extend to languages imbued with supernatural power."

Jenkins nodded to show he understood. A very useful item indeed.

He could feel it now, too—that his body was just a projection. He couldn't sense the temperature of the room, and his sense of touch was significantly dulled.

"Please choose a codename,"

the man in the black robe suggested. "Mr. Constantine is quite fond of gemstones, so we all take one as our codename. Mine is Cat's Eye."

It was a gemstone remarkably similar to a diamond, but vastly cheaper.

A fake diamond is a zircon. A fake Jenkins... was just this projection. It was as simple as that.

"Excellent. Welcome, Mr. Zircon."

Mr. Constantine voiced no objection. Instead, he addressed the six participants seated around the table:

"Let the gathering commence. Last time, I requested information regarding the Saint who has appeared in Nolan City, within the Fidektri Kingdom. Has anyone learned anything?"

"I have some information!"

A gruff male voice responded at once. After receiving a nod of permission, he cleared his throat and declared, "The Saint appeared in response to the demon in Nolan City. Of that, I am certain."

Though it was only a single sentence, Mr. Constantine seemed quite pleased. "Excellent, Mr. Corundum. That piece of information is worth one hundred pounds. I will have my servant deposit the sum into the usual account."

"Thank you for your generosity."

The man known as Corundum stood, offered a bow, and then resumed his seat.

Even though the table translated everyone's speech, Jenkins suspected that the man, like himself, was from the Fidektri Kingdom. It wasn't just his knowledge of events there, but also the familiar colloquialisms and a certain cadence to his speech that gave him away.

"Sir, I know nothing of the Saint's arrival," a new voice spoke up, "but I have learned something of the legends surrounding the Creation Slate you inquired about last month."

The speaker this time was a woman—or perhaps a girl. Her voice was remarkably young, though Jenkins knew that could easily be a disguise.

"Excellent. Please, proceed, Miss Alexandrite."

This time, however, the response was not audible to the other attendees. The mask concealed Miss Alexandrite's mouth, so Jenkins couldn't even read her lips. He understood immediately: this information was exceptionally valuable.

His mind drifted to the photograph he had been transcribing every day.

"Very good," Constantine's voice boomed. "I will have that Series B item mailed to you. After the meeting, please provide an address, or I can use the one from before."

"Thank you for your generosity."

Miss Alexandrite gave a slight nod, her young voice tinged with delight. From her posture and movements alone, it was clear she was not from a common background. Jenkins knew two noble ladies, and her refined bearing was strikingly familiar.

Of course, it couldn't be Hathaway or Briny. The world wasn't that small. Besides, the number and color of her spiritual motes didn't match.

"Mailing the item? Can't he just grant it directly?"

Jenkins wondered, then had a realization: both the host and the participants were, in essence, just mortals. With that thought, his wariness toward the Gem Assembly lessened considerably. It all seemed so... mundane.

They were only mortals, after all.

"Wait, don't get ahead of yourself,"

he chided himself, pinching his thigh hard. But with his sense of pain so muted, he barely felt a thing.

The Gem Assembly was unlike the other two gatherings Jenkins had attended. Mr. Hood's felt more like a social club or a mutual support group, while the Corpse Gentleman's was a trading session overseen by an arbiter. This, however, was more of a personal bulletin board for Mr. Constantine's requests.

He announced what he wanted to know, the participants went out and found the information, and he handed out the rewards.

The topics mostly revolved around gods, legends, and similar lore—information that wasn't necessarily top-secret, but was certainly difficult to obtain. From this, Jenkins suspected that Mr. Constantine, too, was pursuing the secrets to apotheosis.

The participants hailed from all corners of the continent, a fact made clear by their varied reports. One particular piece of information caught Jenkins's attention, as it touched upon a matter that had recently been on his mind.